Ma Soeur
by daughterofmars
Summary: Maggie knows they're not real sisters, but it doesn't make it right. Maggie/Anita. Read or Dream inspired.


**Author's Notes: **Read or Dream inspired. Please note that this takes place some years after the final chapter of Read or Dream, thus Anita is at least 18 years of age. This fic has Anita/Maggie paired up, if you do not like, then don't read it. Also contains hints to girl on girl sex and emotional incest.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the silly idea.

* * *

**Ma Soeur My Sister**

* * *

When sleeping, Anita looks twelve again, her features losing the hard edges she's long ago perfected during her waking hours. Maggie watches her relaxed face, sitting next to her in bed, clad in her rumbled t-shirt and a pair of black, silk boxer shorts carelessly put on.

This, their weird romance, has been going on for a while now. Yet, every time they've slept together, Maggie ends up apologising afterwards, earning herself a verbal bitch-slap from Anita.

"Don't be stupid, Ma-nee," she bites whenever Maggie excuses herself, "it's not like we're real sisters anyway."

Maggie knows that, but it doesn't change anything. They could as well have been. Anita was so young and traumatized back when Dokusensha left her in Michelle's and Maggie's care that Maggie can't help but think she's breaking an entire system of natural and self-given laws by having emotions such as these… not to mention her promise never to let anyone – not even… no, least of all herself – ever hurt Anita again.

Even so, it only takes one grin of Anita's lips to fill Maggie's heart with warmth. It takes even less – a single glimpse of a bared shoulder – to ignite a flame in the pit of her stomach that spreads like wildfire through her blood system. And Anita is well aware of the power she holds over Maggie… but only rarely does she take advantage of it; mostly so when Michelle is out and Maggie is too engrossed in a book to even consider making use of the opportunity of them having been left to their own devices. Just the two of them. Alone. Without Michelle.

Maggie manages a weak, somewhat sad smile. She's grown into a strong woman, has Anita – stronger than Maggie could ever hope of becoming. Of the two, Maggie might be the one who's often mistaken for a guy, but Anita is the real tomboy. It's a part of her that's difficult not to like and Maggie doesn't mind the reversal of roles, though it took her some time to get used to.

After all, she's been "Ma-nee" for so long now…

Giving up on trying to finish the first sentence of Murakami's "Sputnik no Koibito" – the title Michelle ironically gave her "to sleep on" – Maggie puts the book away and lets her hands drop to her lap.

What wouldn't her big sister think if she knew…?

"You're thinking too much again," Anita says then, opening one eye to look up at Maggie; irritated and clearly not asleep as Maggie had originally thought. "When you can't even read, it means you're thinking too much, right?"

"I –" Maggie stammers, realising how loud her voice sounds in the undisturbed quietness of the room, turning the rest of the words into a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes come to a rest on the cover of her book, staring intently at it because she's – as always with Anita lying next to her, naked – too embarrassed to meet the grumpy gaze fixed on her. The background of the cover is dark green, like the bottom of an emptied wine bottle, and only serves to emphasize the pale skin of the woman who's watching herself lovingly in the surface of a mirror.

Recalling the ancient myth of Narcissus, Maggie can vividly imagine what the girl must be feeling. It's too easy being content, even pleased with a selfish love like that… like how she has come to love Anita.

But it still doesn't make it right…

"Just go to sleep, Ma-nee," Anita mutters tiredly, reaching up to grab hold of the front of Maggie's t-shirt, pulling her down until they're lying face to face. Maggie blinks once, her cheeks still burning, but as Anita snuggles in against her, resting her chin on Maggie's shoulder, the shame is replaced by that other emotion… the one that makes Maggie blind and deaf to her guilty conscience.

Noticing idly how their bodies fit together, Maggie does what Anita told her to, closing her eyes and relaxing. She even dares to put her arms around Anita's waist, pressing herself closer up against her before burying her nose between the younger girl's odango that seem to survive everything. Even sex.

At the thought, the blush returns, but Maggie doesn't let go.

They've both been alone; Maggie and Anita. Isn't this just another way of ensuring that neither of them will be lonely again?

Before she has the chance to answer her own question, Maggie has drifted off to sleep, Anita's hands still fisted in her shirt and her pink hair carrying the scent of the first strawberries of summer.


End file.
